The Past and Present
by Xxpresso
Summary: The CSI team learns something about their colleagues when they are trapped on top of the roof


Title: The Past and Present

Author: Xxpresso

Spoilers: Overload

Disclaimer: Blah Blah. Not mine. Blah Blah.

Archive: *You really want it? Gosh, someone, grab me. I'm going down!* Just tell me so I know where it's going.

Summary: The CSI team learns something about their colleagues when they are trapped on top of the roof.

Author's note: This is my first CSI story, be kind and gentle. I really don't know why they want to become CSIs so it's all totally all my imagination. Mark it, ALL. Also, I know nothing about strikes and they probably don't use tranquilizers. But what the heck. It's a fanfic with no logic. After all, this is me we are talking about=)

Feedback: Please, if you got the time=) 

    "Grissom."

     Gil stuck his cell phone between his ear and his shoulder. Brass's voice sounded extremely loud and Gil winced before he freed his hands from his locker, slamming the door shut. 

     "I know, I know. I'll be there first thing tomorrow. Yes, I understand. Stop worrying, I'll…"

     A crash sounded from the conference room and Grissom quickly moved out of the door and into the conference room. Before he could acknowledge the situation to Brass, he felt a tranquilizer dart it his shoulder and before he collapsed, he could see his colleagues, Catherine, Nick, Warrick and Sara, who lay in a heap in the far end corner. His cell phone crashed on the floor, successfully silencing Brass's worried calls.

*****

     Catherine stroked the rumpled blonde hair of her colleague, Nick as his head lay on her lap in a troubled sleep. Somehow, the sedative they had given Nick had been stronger.

     Sara and Warrick had been playing their torchlight over the streets of Las Vegas for the past 2 hours but with no avail. 

     "It's no use," called Catherine. "The streets are so brightly lighted, they wouldn't even notice a cannon ball let alone your tiny light."

     A bang sounded at the locked door as Grissom aimed his karate kick again. "What's this door made of? Steel?" he said, frustrated. 

     "I always knew working overtime was something stupid," Warrick called.

     "Well, anyone got a cell phone?" asked Catherine. 

     Sara spread her hands wide, the penlight held in her right hand, its beam illuminating a dark corner in the roof. "We have nothing on us. Except this penlight. Guess they figured it was no use for us."

     Warrick gave a huge sigh of defeat. "No one is gonna find us."

     "Not until morning," said Sara.

     "When is he waking up?" asked Warrick kneeling down quietly to brush Nick's hair of his forehead.

     "Should be anytime now," said Catherine.

     Nick let out a tiny cry, which no one but those standing near him could hear.

     "Why does he keep saying that for the past 2 hours? He's been muttering No since he fell asleep," said Warrick.

     Catherine hesitated.

     Grissom came away from the door and looked at her. "You know why?"

     Catherine locked eyes with each of them. "He never told anyone but me."

     They all waited for her to get to the point.

     "He was nine. She was a last minute babysitter," she said.

     Sara let out a tiny gasp.

     Grissom blinked. "She…"

     "How could she do that to a boy?" asked Warrick angrily.

     "Shhh!" scolded Catherine. "He'll kill me if he knew I told you."  

     "Poor Nick," said Sara quietly.

     "No wonder he tears into the assault cases." Said Grissom looking at his colleague who was again mumbling a terrified no. 

     Warrick and Sara returned to the flash-penlight job silently, each of them with a new air of silence.

     Grissom continued kicking the door, an occasional groan as he almost twisted his leg. Well, no pain no gain. That was what Catherine always said.

     "Leave me alone!" Nick let out a cry as he suddenly jerked out from Catherine's embrace and broke down into tears.

     "Are you okay?" Sara quickly gathered him into her arms, feeling the hot tears spill onto her blouse. "It's okay. No one is going to hurt you."

     Grissom and Warrick stood awkwardly as Nick continued to cry in Sara's arms.

     "Nick?" Catherine put an attentive hand on Nick's shoulder.

     Nick pulled himself out of Sara's embrace and wiped his tears with the back of his hands. "I'm sorry," he trembled.

     "It's okay," said Sara gently. "Why don't you get some sleep?"

     Grissom limped over and sat down, leaning against the wall. "I've got sick trying to bang that door open." He patted the empty space beside him. "Come on. Rest with me."

     Hesitatingly, Nick sank beside him. Grissom put a hand over his shoulder and pulled Nick's head onto his shoulder. "Get some sleep."

     Nick reluctantly closed his eyes as Grissom gave an inward sigh. He never thought Nick would have such an…it hurt even to think about it happening to an adult let alone a nine-year-old boy.

     Warrick crossed to the door, bent down, a deep frown on his eyebrow. He looked up smugly. "Watch me hit."

     He reared back, lifted his leg and crashed it below the doorknob. "Yeeeeeeeowwwwwww!"

     "Watch you wail," muttered Sara. She bent down to look at the crushed doorknob. Warrick hopped behind her, cradling his foot between his hands.

     "There's something behind this door," she murmured. "This lock had been completely crushed. It should be open."

     "I told you I could crush it," said Warrick.

     Grissom snorted. "I crushed it halfway. You just finished it."

     "Evidence says I crushed it," said Warrick, his voice unsteady, knowing very well he was teetering on a high wire rope.

     Grissom opened his mouth to point out that there was no way Warrick could crush a steel lock with just one kick when Warrick held up his hand to surrender.

     "Okay, okay. You win."

     "That's smart of you," mused Catherine.

     Warrick scowled.

     "I think there is a bolt of some kind behind," said Grissom to Sara who was shining her torch through a small crack of the splintered wood.

     "And also metal barring every 10 inches," added Sara. "It's those do-it-yourself bars you can get in the mart for 30 bucks."

     Warrick groaned. "I give up."

     "Any way we could pick the lock?" asked Catherine.

     "We have nothing to do it with," pointed out Grissom.

     Nick stirred beside him and Grissom pulled his head still on his shoulder. "You don't do anything."

     "Do you still feel groggy?" asked Sara.

     Nick shook his head. He resisted Grissom's firm hold. "I can't sleep."

     "Sure you can," cut in Grissom. "When there's a will…"

     "There's a person saying just the opposite," finished Nick.

     "Haha," said Grissom dryly. 

     Nick stood unsteadily, using the wall to support his weight.

     "Is there a lock on the bars?" he asked.

     Sara shone her light once more, playing it over the ends of the door. "Yeah. A large one."

     Nick limped over and took the torchlight away from her. He peeped into the small splinted and turned to Warrick. "Think you can crush another hole in the wood?"

     "He can," said Grissom before Warrick could say anything. "He just crushed half of a metal lock."

     Warrick glared at Grissom.

     "Watch me," he said. He lifted his right foot, and then hesitated. He lifted his left foot and aimed it at the spot Nick had tapped.

     "On the count of three, get set," said Sara helpfully. "Go!"

     Warrick rolled his eyes and crashed his foot into the spot.

     "Cool, man!" said Nick. "You got it on the first crash."

     Warrick didn't look quite happy.

     "Take your foot out," said Sara slapping Warrick's leg. 

     "The point is," said Warrick slowly. "I can't."

     "What do you mean?" asked Nick.

     Grissom began to laugh. 

     "What?" asked Nick.

     "He s-s-stuck-…"

     "If you aren't so busy laughing at your colleague's misfortune, I'm stuck!" said Warrick loudly.

     Catherine walked over briskly and gave a rough tug at Warrick's leg.

     "Owww!" yelled Warrick. "Watch that!"

     "Yeah. It's a living piece of flesh," said Nick helpfully.

     "You wouldn't make fun of me, if you were in my place, cowboy," said Warrick rubbing his foot.

     "Maybe he'll need to amputate his foot later," joked Sara but silenced when Warrick gave her a stony glance but gave an occasional chuckle.

     Nick tentatively reached into the hole with his right arm and felt the lock.

     "Got a metal pin or something?" he asked. He slumped behind the door.

     Catherine looked around. "A wood splinter?" she offered.

     "It'll break even before he gives it the first twist," said Grissom.

     Sara knelt down beside Nick, running a hand over his feverish forehead. "You got an idea to get that lock open?"

     "Not really," said Nick sheepishly. "Just thought of a try. What harm could that do?"

     The others looked around but couldn't find any other objects that could be used to pick the lock.

     "Great. We have been stuck here for…" Warrick consulted his watch. "2 and a half hours?"

     "Wonder what's Greg doing?" asked Sara. "Maybe he'll notice…"

     "The girls dancing next to him in the P3 club?" asked Grissom.

     "Good point," agreed Nick.

     "Brass?" asked Catherine.

     Grissom snorted.

     "He'll give you ten bucks if he comes," translated Sara.

     "That's not what I meant," said Grissom.

     "Then?" asked Sara.

     "I meant 50 bucks."

     Catherine walked over to the ledge and peered down the 20-storey high office building.

     "Think we can climb down to the top window?" she asked.

     "Please tell me you are kidding," said Warrick.

     "Are you born in the circus?" asked Nick.

     "Of course not!" said Catherine.

     "Then forget it. There's not even a safety net, and that is a 20-storey building you are on." Said Nick.

     "I'm not sure," said Catherine. "The ledge is pretty near. And if you guys are willing to form a human rope…"

     "Cath," said Grissom. "Drop it. I don't know how to classify this case if you drop down on the cement paving in the Las Vegas road as Homicide or Suicide."

     "Good joke," said Warrick politely.

     "Or we can stay here for a night," suggested Catherine.

     "Or you can make the cement pavement down there your burial ground." Shot back Grissom.

     "He's right," said Sara. "There's only about 5 hours left, till the first officer arrives."

     "I hope they didn't think of destroying all the evidence," sighed Warrick. "Just when we got something."

     "We can't do anything now," said Catherine. "Unless of course, we stop them."

     "They'll be long gone," offered Nick.

     Catherine sighed. "Fine. We'll wait."

     She crossed over and sank down on the ground.

     "Why you decided to be a CSI?" asked Catherine suddenly.

     Grissom stared at her. "You asking me?"

     "No, I'm asking the clown beside me," replied Catherine.

     Interested, Sara, Warrick and Nick sank down beside Grissom and Catherine, forming a row.

     "Hmmm," said Grissom. "Well, when I was a kid, I loved to search for missing things. Sort of like Hardy Boys. Whenever my mom or anyone in my family misplaced something, I was always the one who found the missing object. Everyone used to joke that I was some sort of magnet which eventually the missing things will stick itself to me. Well, I guess searching for evidence is sort of something that is missing, and I need to find out who took it, why they wanted it. Mystery, you know?"

     "What about you?" asked Sara to Catherine.

     Catherine cocked her head and her forehead creased as she thought of why she wanted to be a CSI. "Las Vegas was always you know, high crime rates, yadah yadah. Just thought of uncovering what actually happened. I like to return some sort of justice to the innocent people that got killed for no reason. At least one from a million criminals is caught. Maybe one day there'll be peace finally." She gave a shrug as if knowing full well that there was certainly no way that was going to happen.

     "What about you, Nick?" asked Warrick.

     Nick grunted. "Made a bad cop in the field, being a CSI was a lot appealing than being a traffic director or an office clerk."

     Sara started to giggle.

     "What?" asked Nick.

     "I wish I could see you in the police's uniform," she chuckled.

     "I look real handsome in it, don't worry," offered Nick.

     Sara made a belching sound.

    "Okay, what about you then, Miss Primrose?" challenged Nick.

     Sara straightened her face and opened her mouth. "I don't really know. I guess it was for the sake of confronting my fears. I hated gory murder scenes, used to have nightmares all the time about chopped up bodies and stuff like that. My father made my sit through one whole horror movie, and that made it worse. So I thought, what the hell, maybe if I really saw a bloody body, find out whom that person is, realize that he or she is just like me, only that they just got unlucky. It works. I'm scare free," she finished.

     Everyone turned to Warrick.

     "Okay, okay," said Warrick. "I was a huge busybody."

     Everyone started to laugh. 

     "I knew it," said Nick. "All the while."

     Warrick slapped Nick on the shoulder. "Hear me roar."

     "Continue?" begged Sara. "Maybe you'll have a few more confessions out."

     "There was a time when this guy jumped down a building and killed himself, just opposite my house. The pace was swarming with the LVPD and the CSI. I went down there, wanting to know more. Why did he jump? Where had he crash landed? What is his family's reaction?" he grinned. "The police wouldn't even let me touch the yellow tape with a ten-feet pole, and I really itched to know the truth. Then this CSI came over and bent down, gently explaining everything I wanted to know, that they suspected it was not suicide, it was homicide, stuff like that. Just briefly. Not even enough to feed a hungry reporter. Then from that day onwards, I always wanted to be a CSI. And now," he added. "I'm INSIDE the yellow tape."

     The group was silent now and then.

     "Wonder what Greg saw or did to want to become a lab technician?" asked Grissom suddenly.

     "Girls wanted him to analyze their toenails?" suggested Warrick. 

     Sara went to the door, and after a few moans and groans, she pulled the lock free, leaving the door with a large hole.

     "Be a gentleman," Catherine nudged Grissom. "Go help her."

     Grissom grunted. "I'm an old man. Find Warrick or Nick."

     "You are not old," said Catherine.

     "Yes, I am."

     "No, you are not."

     "Could you guys help me open this door?" asked Sara.

     "What for?" asked Nick. "To expose the metal bars behind it and depress me even more?"

     "Just do it," said Sara.

     Nick tugged hard at the hole Sara already created and Warrick crossed over to help. Together, they managed to get the door open, revealing the do-it-yourself new metal bars installed quickly.

     Sara snaked out her hand and studied the lock with her flashlight. She directed the beam of light further and managed to highlight a far end corner where a bunch of keys lay.

     "Keys o," said Sara.

     "Keys far," observed Nick.

     Grissom and Catherine peered at the corner where Sara's beam still hovered at the spot.

     "Anything long to dig it near?" asked Warrick glancing around the rooftop.

     "A bunch of rusted tools," said Catherine. She gingerly parted the rusty objects with her fingertips, revealing a dust eaten broom, a rusted blunt knife, a mop handle and a pile of dusty rags.

     "The mop handle will do," said Nick.

     Grissom shook his head. "Too short."

     Sara picked up the rusty knife and observed the fallen door. "Maybe if we could get a slice of this door…"

     "Did you see the last episode of National Geographic?" Nick cut in.

     "Yeah. All the little cute crocodiles," said Grissom. "Did you catch Animal Planet?"

     "Oh, yeah. It was very…"

      "Guys, be a bit helpful," interrupted Sara. "This is our freedom I'm planning."

     "Yeah," agreed Catherine. "Anyway, Gil, you don't watch National Geographic. If you really did, last week's was about tigers. Not crocodiles."

     Both of them grunted.

     Together, they took turns using the blunt knife to hack the door into pieces, leaving a nice shapely piece of long wood that Warrick, Nick and Grissom hosted up and stuck it into the gaps. With Sara's torchlight, they managed to pull the keys nearer and Sara, with the mop handle, pulled it close enough to grasp the keys in her hands.

     "Bingo," she uttered.

     Slowly and painstakingly, she found the right keys to the locks and unlocked them one by one. As the final metal bar dropped on the floor, footsteps was heard climbing up the stairs.

     Warrick grabbed the mop handle and brandished it in front of him while Nick armed the knife. Finding nothing else to lay his hand upon, Grissom satisfied himself with the broom, with dusted fine dust all over him.

     Three steps. Everybody raised their weapons. Two steps. Grissom mouthed 'Get ready'. One step. 

     "Attack!" yelled Warrick.

     Their sticks nearly found a mark when a familiar cry sounded. "Relax! It's me. Brass."

     Everybody sighed in relief and the boys lowered their weapons, letting it drop to the floor.

     "I come to free you and what a nice welcome you prepared for me," grumbled Brass.

     "He came," said Catherine.

     "So?" asked Sara.

     "He came," said Catherine louder in Grissom's ear.

     "She means the 50 bucks," whispered Nick into Grissom's ear.

     "I said if he comes, AND frees us," said Grissom.

     "You didn't say 'frees us,'" said Catherine.

     "It was understood," said Grissom.

     "What the hell are you talking about?" asked Brass staring at the pile of jumbled splinters from the door and the sticks strewn around the staircase.

     "Never mind," said Grissom. "We have to check in the evidence."

     "Oh, right," Nick slapped his forehead.

     Catherine ran to the staircase, all the rest of the CSIs following her. Brass quickly ran over to the staircase. They had already half jumped down the second stair and was disappearing from sight.

     "Hey, wait!" Brass ran down the stairs.

     They burst into the office and into the fingerprints lab. Papers were strewn everywhere, ashes in the wastepaper basket where once papers now burnt to crisp black soot. Other documents were torn into pieces, while the lab samples were all missing.

     Brass grinned awkwardly. "Worker Strike. They got their pay late and pay back time. They'll have it settled tomorrow.

     Nick glanced at the beaker holders.

     "Probably down the sink by now," said Nick dolefully.

     "Anyone likes jigsaw puzzles?" asked Grissom.

***

     "Tell me you are kidding," moaned Sara.

     Grissom drew in a long breath. "For the ninth time," he leaned forward to Sara. "I am NOT kidding."

     All of them were seated around the conference table, the pile of torn documents in an untidy heap on the table. After identifying the missing lab samples to the Las Vegas police, Greg had slipped into the Conference Room but after seeing what they were doing inside, quickly slipped out unnoticed, determined not to spend his night piecing documents together.

     "This is the only thing left for us," said Catherine. "Unless you want to start all over again."

     Warrick rubbed the back of his neck and groaned, reaching out for the next piece. "This is impossible. There are about 100 pages of documents, all torn into at least 5000 pieces."

     Sara pushed her hand into the pile of shredded papers. "Please, please help me, the Gods of Papers or whatever you are named, please give me the right piece."

     Nick folded his hands neatly on the table, closed his eyes and said, "Please, please, the God of Jigsaw Puzzles, please piece all these papers together."

     "Haha," said Sara. She yanked out a piece, took a deep breath and slid it near her pile. "It does not fit," she sighed.

     Nick opened his eyes. "The papers are not pieced together."

     "Wonder what Brass was doing here," said Catherine changing the subject. "It was after office hours."

     "You can ask him later," offered Warrick.

     "I was on the phone with him when that tranquil hit me," said Grissom. "Apparently, it took him 3 hours to discover that something was wrong."

     A shrill alarm sounded in the room. Nick sheepishly turned off his watch's alarm. "Seven morning."

     Grissom pinched the bridge of his nose. "I get it. This is going to take 10 days to finish. Go home, take a nap and refresh yourselves."

     Sara and Warrick were already halfway through the glass door. "See ya, boss," said Warrick.

     "Hold that!" Nick grabbed his jacket and slipped through the door.

     Catherine found her bag and waited for Grissom. Together, they made it to the parking lot where Sara and Nick were mercilessly teasing Warrick something about busybodies.

     Together, they automatically joined the group. After a few seconds conversation, the tired team agreed to go have a beer together before handling the crimes of Las Vegas. 

     When their respective alarm clocks rings tomorrow morning, each of them will go to the next crime scene, with additional respect for their coworkers.

END


End file.
